All for One
by Sportsgirl815
Summary: Drabbles. Mainly the boys but everyone will be included eventually. Covering everything from angst to fluff.
1. Chapter 1

Athos stoked the fire, pushing around the logs, stirring the embers. It was turning to winter, the air becoming crisp, his breath coming out in white clouds. The chill wrapped around him and the wind rustled his hair.

Watch duty always made Athos solemn and surly. He was left with the thoughts of Milday that haunted him everyday and forced him to drink every night, the only difference being he couldn't use drink to chase them away. So when D'artagnan started whimpering in his sleep he relished at the distraction.

The noises came out softly and far apart at first. He sounded like an ill child, fussing in his sleep, trying to get comfortable. But then the sounds came closer together and words started forming in his throat. Athos could hear the words "No" and "Please" coming from the boy. He frowned and his eyebrows furrowed. This wasn't a passing terror, he should know, having his own about Milady every night he was sober.

He was about to wake D'artagnan from his torture when the boy bolted straight up. He saw D'artagnan immediately reach for his rapier, but he had been wise enough to move it away from the boy. Many a time had he woken up and lashed out with his weapon, not being in his right mind. He wasn't worried so much about D'artagnan hurting the others as he was about him hurting himself. People did strange things in their pain.

D'artagnan looked around when he couldn't find his rapier. He spotted Athos by the fire and looked down.

"Looking for this?" He held the rapier aloft but D'artagnan did not look up. When a few minutes passed and no response came from the Gascon Athos tried again.

"Care to share what's on your mind? Whatever it is, its clearly bothering you. Perhaps sharing it will ease your mind."

Again, no response came from D'artagnan and Athos sighed. He wasn't one to press another man to share his thoughts if he had no desire but if D'artagnan was distracted it could prove a danger to them all.

He had an idea as to what could possibly be bothering the boy. It had been little more than a month since D'artagnan's explosive entrance into their life. He was arrogant, cocky, impulsive and naïve. But he was a gentleman, he learned quickly and was very skilled. Everything else could be taught in time. So only a few days after he had accused Athos of the murder of his father he turned around and started training with them to become a Musketeer. And from what Athos gathered he had taken no time to properly mourn his father's death. It was one thing to avenge a murdered father, another to mourn him.

He got up, grunting at the effort as his frozen bones protested and went over to the young Gascon. D'artagnan still looked down, even when he sat down next to him.

"There is no shame in missing your father. You have done honorably by him and by us. We would not fault you nor think less of you for mourning him properly."

It was this that finally got the boy to break. At first he sniffled, trying to stifle his tears. Athos took the boy's head and pulled it to his chest, resting his chin on his head. The crying turned to sobbing, the kind only a broken heart can cause. Athos knew the sound, recognizing it from his own heartbreak and wishing he had someone to comfort him. He would not leave D'artagnan to face this alone.


	2. Chapter 2

The boy who walked through the gate of the garrison was completely ordinary in every way. His stature and build was that of a healthy teen-age boy. His looks, ordinary, neither handsome nor ugly. Dressed as a common citizen, neither poor nor exceedingly wealthy. So it was no surprise he garnered no attention when he walked amongst a crowd of extra-ordinary men. Except from one.

Athos stood with his hand on the bannister of the upper level of the barracks. With his hat pulled down over his eyes and shading his face he observed the goings-on in the yard. Men fine-tuning their skill, boys learning them for the first time. It gave him great pleasure seeing those who improved through hard work. He also kept a mental list of those who needed a slight _push_ in the direction of hard work. His eyes continually scanned, sweeping over and taking in everything. So when a boy walked into the yard, timidly and unnoticed, he noticed.

He watched this boy wander about. He had seen these boys before. Eight out of ten times they came to ask for acceptance into the Musketeers. The other two times it was a plea for help. So he watched, analyzing, considering what the boy was. He walked around the perimeter of the yard, keeping care to hug the walls and get in no one's way. He looked around, trying to find someone who was not busy to plead his case to. Athos watched him as minutes went by and still the boy talked to no one. Did not make his presence known. After five minutes Athos wondered if he would leave, but he never did. He just stood against the wall, waiting.

Sighing, Athos went down the stairs to meet this boy. He could feel the boy's eyes pulled onto him, tracking his movement. He made sure to walk diagonally, through the fray of fighting, towards the boy. He nodded to the men, his friends and brothers, who greeted him. Walking straight up to the boy, standing almost chest-to-chest with him, he swept off his hat.

"May I help you?" He asked curtly but not impolitely. He waited for a response.

The boy gaped like a fish.

"Come, I haven't all day, boy." He compelled him, adding the "insult" of addressing him as a boy. Perhaps that would stir his blood.

"Monsieur," the boys said, bowing low and politely, "I have come to ask for a commission with the Musketeers."

"And what makes you feel you're worthy of such an honor?"

The boys seemed to find his courage and his tongue. He pulled himself up to full height and pulled out his rapier. An ordinary one, Athos noted, no embellishment. But well –made and sturdy. It was certainly a blade that would get a man through a battle.

"Test me against your best. I will rise to your challenge."

Athos smirked, reminded of another boy he knew. Normally when these boys came they spoke about their merit, the deeds they had done and offered letters from fathers and pastors. Rarely did they ever offer to prove themselves, which Athos found odd. Most of the men comprising the Musketeers had indeed yearned to prove themselves. It was vital for a Musketeer to want to prove himself constantly. To his brothers, his captain and even to himself. All the time, and especially in battle. So throwing his hat onto a nearby table unsheathing his own rapier he walked to the center of the training ground.

"Is it you?" The boy asked in surprise. Athos merely raised his eyebrows and waited for the boy to join him.

The boy walked slowly into the center. Musketeers ceased their exercises and circled around to watch the next hopeful.

"Know this, I won't go easy on you."

Athos measured the boy's response to his slight threat. He swallowed and nodded, suddenly loosing his voice once again.

Athos saluted his opponent. The boy saluted back. At least he knew the procedure of a proper duel. But that was just one small aspect among many used to determine a man's worthiness to join the Musketeers. He was going to endeavor to find out a few more.

He charged the boy and set a flurry of attacks against him. Caught by surprise the boy struggled to block them but did so. He regained his footing as Athos backed off, giving him a chance to compose himself. He was not unsympathetic to the trial it was to face off against a Musketeer for the first time, especially one as seasoned as him. So he circled, noting the boy's footwork and waited for the boy to attack him.

The boy did not make him wait long. With a cry he launched himself at Athos but before he could land a blow Athos moved quickly to the side and circumvented the attack all together. The boy spun and met Athos' rapier before he could land the "killing" blow. He backed up and lost his footing.

Athos advanced on him and the boy scurried back on his hands. He brought down his rapier and the boy met it. He pushed both blades closer to the boy's chest. Leaning in on the boy he saw the sweat on his brow. He felt the strain of his arms, pushing back against the weight.

He looked straight into the boy's eyes.

He backed off, sheathing his rapier. He saw the surprise in the boy's expression. He offered his hand and the boy took it.

Slowly everyone went back to their work, leaving them in the center.

"You are not without skill, though you could use some practice on your footwork. But I do not think the Musketeers is for you."

Once he made a decision it was final, rarely did he ever change his mind. But he always tried to save their dignity. It was a brave thing to come and try and he was appreciative of that.

He was waiting for the protest, the anger, the indignation. But none came. The boy nodded slowly, as if processing the words and accepting them.

"I thank you, monsieur, for the opportunity. I am only sorry I could not convince you better."

So Athos watched another boy leave the garrison. He would never be a Musketeer.

He would still be ordinary. And perhaps, he mused, he was doing the boy a favor.


	3. Lessons Part 1

Athos stared at the boy. From where he was perched, on the windowsill, he could only see his profile. But it was enough. Standing at attention, back straight, arms at his side, he still held himself up with arrogance and pride. His chin was up and his shoulders were straight. Athos did not doubt for a moment that there was a fire in his eyes and that his lips were set in a thin, tight line, trying to keep the words on his tongue in his mouth.

Treville was reading D'artagnan the riot act. And rightfully so. They had been sent to investigate a break-in at some nobleman's house, a friend to the king. It should have been a simple, hour-long, task. But when the man had made a passing remark about D'artagnan's age things had gotten out of control. D'artagnan demanded the man apologize and when he didn't he challenged him to a duel. When the man refused he called him a coward and slashed out with his sword, breaking a priceless vase. By then Aramis, Porthos and himself had joined them and dragged D'artagnan out of the house, Athos apologizing for the inconvenience. He had hoped that would be the end of it but the man had lodged a complaint with the Captain and now they were there.

"You have been here several months. It is about damn time that you started acting with the decorum expected of a gentleman in the capitol of France! You say you want to become a Musketeer, well I can assure you I will die before I let an ill-mannered youth into my brigade! I can't even look at you."

Treville shot D'artagnan a look of disgust. "Get out of my sight."

D'artagnan nodded his head and left the office. Before he closed the door Athos said quietly, "wait for me outside."

When he had closed the door behind him Athos got off his perch and walked towards his captain who had sat down behind his desk with a sigh.

"He is talented Athos. But he is arrogant and proud and reckless. I can't help him if he doesn't learn some manners soon. It will be beyond my control."

Athos nodded and considered the captain's words carefully before replying.

"I understand. I will endeavor to help him understand what is expected of him."

He locked eyes with the captain. Treville knew what D'artagnan meant to him, Porthos and Aramis. How they thought of him as a little brother and a reliable friend. And there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he would make a fine Musketeer, one day. Athos knew the captain well enough to know that he would give D'artagnan another chance because he was asking him to. But he also knew that D'artagnan had tried the captain's last nerve and there would be no second chance. Athos could not blame him for that, for he was justified because of D'artagnan's rash actions and behavior.

Athos nodded his respect at his captain and left.

Just as he had commanded, D'artagnan sat on a bench against the far wall of Treville's antechamber. The boy looked contemplative and contrite and Athos had no doubt he was. He always was afterwards, but it was his thought processes before he acted that needed amending.

"Follow me," he said, striding past D'artagnan without breaking pace. He followed as Athos expected him to.

"I am so sorry, Athos. I wasn't thinking. I let my anger get the best of me. It won't happen again."

Athos ignored the apology, though it sounded so very sincere. He had heard it to many times. So he walked, in silence, with the boy trailing behind him. Even when D'artagnan asked where they were going he kept silent. He knew the boy must be lost in thought and nervous for what was to come. And that was exactly what he wanted.

After walking through the streets for twenty minutes but what surely seemed like more to D'artagnan Athos made a sharp turn and ended their walk exactly where he intended all along. The Musketeer garrison.

He could feel the frustration and confusion radiating off the boy behind him as they walked through the gates and towards the open space near the table.

"What are we doing back here? Athos, god damn it, will you just talk to me!" Athos felt a strong grip on his shoulder. This is what he had been waiting for.

He quickly grabbed the hand on his shoulder and, in a practiced move, had D'artagnan's arm twisted behind his back.

"What the hell-" he hard the boy exclaim but before he finished the sentence Athos forced him onto his knees and put his knee in the middle of his back.

Slowly the heads of those Musketeers around turned towards them.

"Let me up." He heard the dangerous note in the boy's voice. The one that told him a storm was coming.

"Fetch me a rope," he commanded to the air.

This was when the real struggle was started. But he was prepared. While rash D'artagnan was not unpredictable to those who knew him. Using his knee on his back he pushed D'artagnan all the way to the ground and grabbed his other hand. The boy let out a stream of curses at him and shouted his release.

When a rope was in his hand Athos made quick work of tying D'artagnan's hands behind his back. He pulled the boy up and brought him over to one of the posts supporting the upper level of the garrison. Pushing him against the post he quickly tied him securely and started walking away.

"Athos, let me go or I will never forgive you."

He turned to face the boy. He could see the fury, embarrassment, confusion, betrayal and hurt in his eyes and face. It sent a piercing feeling running through his body, his very bones. But he gave nothing away, nor said anything to the boy. Instead he just turned away.

This was a lesson the boy had to learn. And a lesson he must teach.


End file.
